


Freezing

by TheKatlocker (TheKat79)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Sherlock, John is a Saint, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKat79/pseuds/TheKatlocker
Summary: After Sherlock breaks through the ice in an ice cold winter night there's only one way to warm him up again, bodyheat.You know where this is going...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, apologies to everyone waiting for an update on 'Scarred Lives'. I promise it will come!  
> I had to take a break from writing lately and this little one shot is supposed to help me back into writing.  
> Also my first attempt on one of my favourite tropes 'sharing a bed/bodyheat'.  
> This story has probably been written a few hundred times already, so this is my version of it. I hope you like it.

John stood at the brink of a little lake in the middle of nowhere, rubbing his hands together and blowing onto them, trying to prevent his fingers from frostbite while watching Sherlock swirling around in his Belstaff like a maniac, looking for clues to solve the murder of an old lady. It was a few days before Christmas and the sun had set hours ago. It had started snowing and there was an icy wind blowing around them, whirling up the bit of snow covering the ground.   
John would have preferred the cozy warmth of Baker Street with a cup of tea by his side and a crackling fire in the mantle, Sherlock playing some piece or other on the violin while John drifted off in his armchair. Instead he was here, in a little town he couldn't even remember the name, freezing his bits off.   
On the other hand, watching his best friend doing what he did best was worth loosing a toe or two to frostbite, wasn't it? Sherlock just whirled around in a full circle, cheeks glowing, eyes shining in excitement, a silent 'Oh' on his lips.   
Yep, definitely worth it, John thought and grinned. 

They have known each other for years now, but John was still fascinated every time he saw him in action. God, he loved the bloody git. He had long stopped denying those feelings from himself.   
He loved Sherlock, period.   
And he would never have him. Well, not like this at least. John was happy to have him back in his life, after everything they've been through over the years. They were still best friends, closer than ever in fact and they would probably grow old together. Just not exactly the way John would like them to grow old.   
It would have to do.   
John would take whatever Sherlock was willing to give him, as best friend, flatmate and partner in their working life. He wasn't going to look for anyone else ever again, of that John was sure. Sherlock had always been there for him, he would give his life for John.   
Well, he practically had.   
Sherlock had even watched him marrying someone else, just to make sure that John was happy. It had taken John long enough to recognize all this for what it was. With anyone else John would have said that the person that had given anything for John was in love with him, but with Sherlock? He just didn't know what exactly it meant. They were so close and still so far apart. 

Although things seemed to have shifted between them lately. Or had they shifted since the day they had met, just that John was too blind or too ignorant to see? He didn't know.   
Sherlock often stopped in his tracks nowadays for a second or two to look for John, making eye contact, as if to make sure that John was still there. Sherlock never left him at crime scenes anymore and he always walked just a bit slower, so that John didn't have to run after him. And he was absolutely honest. Sherlock had stopped concealing things from John a long time ago.   
Over the years there had always been long gazes, heated moments, situations where the world around them had stopped existing. Now, though, they shared little smiles while separated in a room full of people. Hands lingered on forearms or shoulders much longer than strictly necessary. There were 'almost conversations' late at night while they were sitting opposite each other in their armchairs, but neither of them was ever brave enough to say what they really wanted to say. Or at least what John wanted to say and didn't dare. 

A sharp blast of air pulled John out of his train of thoughts and back to the ice cold winter night he was currently spending freezing his balls off.   
Sherlock was just insulting one of the local coppers before he barked instructions to everyone in earshot and continued to look for evidence and the murder weapon that should be somewhere here at this lake, according to his earlier deductions.  
And there it was again. Sherlock stood, surrounded by three cops, deducing the hell out of something he had picked up from the ground a moment ago and suddenly he stopped and whirled around until his eyes met John's. They gave each other a tiny nod and a little smile and Sherlock turned back to what he was doing.   
John pulled his coat just a bit tighter. He felt warm inside, despite the icy wind and went on enjoying the show in front of him with a private smile.   
That was, until Sherlock stepped onto the ice-covered surface in front of them and walked out onto the lake. John's heart dropped.   
“Sherlock, stop! The ice isn't...”  
He didn't get any further when he heard a cracking sound and then the ice broke and Sherlock was swallowed whole by the lake.   
“Sherlock!” John shouted and the police men around him jumped into action. 

It took them less than two minutes to get Sherlock out of the ice cold water but he was already shaking like a leave, wet from head to toe, quivering lips blue from the cold.   
“Damnit, Sherlock, what were you thinking?” John was furious.   
“I, the... the...” Sherlock stammered but wasn't able to get a whole sentence out in his current state.   
“Nevermind. Get this off.” John grabbed his Belstaff by the lapels and pulled the soaking wet garment off his friends shoulders, followed by the suit jacket.   
“Take your shirt off too,” John told him.   
Sherlock started fiddling with the top button of his white, very wet shirt and John could see peaked nipples and nicely defined pectorals. He swallowed once before he averted his eyes and shoved Sherlock's shaking hands out of the way to open the buttons himself.   
“Let me.”  
John could feel Sherlock's piercing eyes on him and he swallowed again, while opening the shirt buttons as quickly as he could manage.   
The local DI came over to check on Sherlock, who was shaking even harder now.   
“Does he need an ambulance, Dr. Watson?”  
“I don't think so, he'll be fine," John told him. “But we'll need a hotel room. No chance that we can go back to London like this.”  
“There's a little B&B on the main road. I'll call them to get you a room.”  
“Two,” Sherlock mumbled and the DI turned back around.   
John felt a little stab in his chest. He wouldn't have minded to share a room with Sherlock for the night, not one bit. Just to keep an eye on him, of course, as his doctor.   
“Oh, I'm sorry, I thought...” the DI stumbled, gaze flicking nervously between them while John opened the last button and pulled Sherlock's shirt out of his trousers.  
“S'fine,” Sherlock said, eyes cast down to the floor.   
“Two rooms, then,” the DI mumbled and turned to hurry away.   
“Ta.” John called after him and pulled the shirt off his friend's shoulders.   
“You're an idiot. You know that, right?” John asked but he couldn't suppress the little grin tucking on the corners of his lips.   
“John, I needed..., there was..., the evidence, John!” Sherlock stammered while John pulled his own jacket off to put it around Sherlock's shaking form.   
“Come on, you idiot, before you freeze your balls off.”  
John pushed Sherlock to the waiting police car with a hand at the small of his back and he could have sworn that Sherlock leaned into the touch, if only just a bit.

During the short ride to the B&B Sherlock was hunched on the back seat, shaking hard, teeth clattering and John slid over to take Sherlock's hands between his own. He rubbed them gently and blew warm breath against ice cold fingers.   
John saw blue eyes fixed on their joined hands and for a few seconds Sherlock sat completely still, before a full body shudder went down his spine.   
“Idiot,” John told him again and smiled at him until Sherlock met his gaze and smiled too. 

John quickly finished the paperwork at the little B&B and took their two room keys. He grabbed Sherlock by the upper arm to drag him up the stairs and into the nearest room. They went straight into the bathroom and John opened the tabs to fill the tub with lukewarm water.   
“Trousers off,” John commanded while pulling his own jacket off Sherlock's shoulders.   
“John, it's fine, you can go to your own room now,” Sherlock said in a voice much too quiet for his usual nonchalance.   
“Don't worry, I'm not going to judge, I know that water was ice cold,” John said with a wink.   
Sherlock's eyes flicked from the floor to John's face and back to the floor within a second, but John saw the little twitch around Sherlock's mouth anyway.   
“Come on, take those trousers off before you freeze to death.”  
Sherlock turned half away from John and desperately tried to open the button of his trousers with numb fingers. John watched him fumbling around unsuccessfully for a bit.   
“Need a hand with that?” John chuckled.   
“I'm perfectly capable of opening my own trousers, John.” Sherlock tried to sound snappy but failed miserably.   
“Oh, are you now?”  
John watched him fumbling a little longer before he stepped right into his space to place his hands on top of Sherlock's freezing ones.   
“Let me,” he said softly and Sherlock went very still and swallowed hard before he let his hands fall away.   
John unbuttoned and unzipped Sherlock's trousers and when he felt warm puffs of air hitting his forehead his gaze flicked up involuntarily. What he saw there nearly took his breath away. Sherlock's eyes were piercing into his own, pupils dilated, mouth slightly open. God, that mouth was made for kissing... and... other things.   
John felt himself blushing and cleared his throat, before he pulled back his hands and turned to the tub to check the water very, very thoroughly.   
“Thank you,” Sherlock murmured behind him.   
When John turned back Sherlock was out of his trousers, fighting with his socks.   
“Sit down.” John gave him a little push until he landed on the brink of the tub and kneeled down in front of Sherlock to pull his socks off.  
“Into the tub with you, I'll see if I can find some tea,” he ordered and left the room to give Sherlock some privacy.   
“On the desk beside the door,” he heard Sherlock before he closed the bathroom door. And of course there was a kettle, cups and teabags on the desk beside the door. ‘Observant git, even when he's freezing to death’ John thought and shook his head with a smile. 

When he came back into the bathroom with two steaming mugs, Sherlock was inside the tub, silky black, wet pants on the floor in front of it. He handed Sherlock his tea who took it with trembling hands.   
“Careful, you'll spill this all over yourself.”  
“Thank you,” Sherlock mumbled into his cup, not meeting John's eyes.   
John grabbed Sherlock's wet clothes that were scattered all over the place and left the room to hang them over every piece of furniture he could find in the small room. Since the chair by the desk was now occupied with wet clothes he settled on the queen sized bed and took a sip of his own tea, switching on the telly. 

Sherlock emerged from the bathroom some twenty minutes later, one white towel loosely around his thin hips, another one around his shoulders. His hair was tousled wet, hands fidgeting with the hem of the towel. John got up from the bed to pull the covers away and shoved Sherlock to the bed.   
“Come on, into bed with you.”  
Sherlock's skin at the small of his back was damp from the bath but still too chilly for John's liking.   
Sherlock dropped both towels to the floor and slid between the covers and God, his arse was perfect. John felt his cheeks flushing once again and pulled the covers over him quickly.   
“Erm, do you need anything else? Something to eat maybe?”  
“It's nearly midnight and we're in the middle of nowhere, I doubt that you are able to find something to eat somewhere around here.”  
“Right.”  
“Thank you, John.”  
Sherlock rolled up on his side facing John, covers pulled up under his chin.   
“Okay, good night then.”  
“Good night, John.”  
John walked to the door, picking up the second room key on his way and turned back to check on Sherlock once more before he left. Sherlock had pulled the covers even closer around his body but he was still shaking. John threw the key onto the little table beside the door and walked back the few steps.   
“Hey, you're still freezing.”  
“I'll be fine in the morning, John.”  
John leaned down to slip a hand around the back of Sherlock's neck. The skin there was as chilly as at the small of his back.   
“You're still much too cold.”  
It took John about two seconds to make up his mind and start undressing. Sherlock's eyes went wide.   
“What are you doing, John?”  
“Isn't that obvious, genius?”  
John undressed down to his pants quickly and glanced back at Sherlock whose eyes had grown even wider, his gaze flicking all over John's almost naked body and John felt very exposed all of a sudden.   
“Body heat will warm you up much more efficiently.”  
He walked around the bed to slip under the covers behind Sherlock. John shuffled closer, slipped one arm around Sherlock's waist, pressing his front against Sherlock's chilly back. He could hear Sherlock drawing a deep breath, almost a gasp.   
John grabbed a much larger, ice cold hand and pressed their joined hands against Sherlock's chest.   
Sherlock was completely tense and very, very still, breathing shallow.   
“Relax,” John told him and he could feel Sherlock melt against his own body by the minute, until they were pressed together from head to toe and John's mind started imagining what other things they could do in this position. He tried not to think too much about the fact that Sherlock was naked in bed with him. That he himself wasn't wearing anything else besides his pants. That their bodies were touching from head to toe.   
John felt the blood rushing out of his brain and straight down into his cock and desperately willed the images in his head away, telling his cock to stay in his pants. He tried to concentrate on warming up the freezing man in front of him instead, grabbing Sherlock's hand a bit tighter.   
“This would be much easier the other way 'round, you know?” John sighed.   
Sherlock swallowed.   
“I'm sorry, what?” His voice sounded strangely hoarse.   
“Our hands. You could warm my hands much easier than I can warm yours.”  
“Oh... right.”  
Did Sherlock sound disappointed? Had John said something wrong?   
Sherlock was breathing a bit hard and John could feel his heart beating way too fast where his left hand was pressed against Sherlock's chest. Why was it beating so fast?   
“Sherlock?”  
“Yes John?”  
“Your heart is racing.”  
“No, it's not.”  
“Yes, it is, I'm a doctor, remember?”  
“Just a side effect of the hypothermia. I'm fine.”  
“Sherlock?”  
“I'm fine, John.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes. You're tired. Sleep.”  
John sighed, he actually was quite knackered, it had been a long day, after all. He snuggled a bit closer and closed his eyes.   
“Night, Sherl,” he mumbled against Sherlock's shoulder.   
“Good night, John,” Sherlock whispered. 

When John woke up the next morning he was very warm and very comfortable, pressed against a warm body. He inhaled deeply, relishing in the familiar scent and snuggled a bit closer, wriggling his hips a little, so that his morning erection pressed a bit more firmly against the body beside him.   
Then he froze.   
This was Sherlock in bed with him. He was pressing his erection against Sherlock's thigh and his heart missed a bit. John was lying on his side, one arm and one leg thrown over Sherlock's body, pelvis pressed against his side. His head was nestled in the crook of Sherlock's neck, Sherlock's curls tickling his skin. But there was more. Sherlock's arm was on top of John's, his hand had a light grip around John's forearm. The side of Sherlock's face was pressed against the top of his head and John could feel puffs of warm breath in his hair. Sherlock's left and his own right arm were trapped between their bodies. 

God, he wished he could wake up every morning like that. He wished he could stay like this forever.   
He needed to get away as quickly as possible, before Sherlock woke up.   
John stayed just a few seconds longer, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his best friend, before he started drawing back slowly, trying not to wake Sherlock, but the grip on his forearm tightened immediately, if only just a bit and John stopped moving.   
Did he imagine it? That couldn't be possible, Sherlock was asleep beside him. Or wasn't he?   
John started drawing back once more and this time there was no mistaking the grip on his forearm. Sherlock actually held him back.   
Did Sherlock want him to stay?   
John leaned back against him and took a careful breath.   
“Sherlock?” His voice rough from sleep.   
“Hmm?”  
“You're awake.”  
“Obviously.” Sherlock's voice was just as rough as his own.   
“How long have you been awake?”  
There was a pause before Sherlock answered very quietly.  
“A bit.”  
“Oh.”  
John's mind started racing. Sherlock had been awake for a while, he had been lying here with John, not trying to move away. He had stopped John from slipping away from him... Oh!  
“John?”  
“Yes?”  
“I... umm... you... you can...”  
“How are you feeling?” John interrupted, before Sherlock could say something he didn't want to hear.   
Sherlock cleared his throat.   
“Very warm.”  
John smiled. “That's good.”  
“John, that, that thing that you did..., with the... the body heat, that was... good.”  
John's smile grew wider.   
“I'm a doctor, I know such things.”  
“Maybe we could do that again... someday...”  
“I actually hope we don't have to do that again,” John chuckled.   
“No... no, of course not.” Sherlock's voice sounded hoarse all of a sudden and he sat up in bed quickly, turning away from John, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and John froze for a second. Something had bumped against his hand while Sherlock had slipped out under him, something hard, covered by soft skin... Oh!   
Sherlock's very own morning erection. Just that Sherlock had already been awake for a while and it should have subsided by now, shouldn't it?   
Unless... this affected Sherlock just as it affected him.   
“Umm, Sherlock...”  
Suddenly a phone rang and Sherlock grabbed it from the nightstand to answer.   
He ended the call about a minute later.   
“That was DI Foster, he's going to pick us up in twenty minutes.” Sherlock said, not turning back to John.   
“Okay... Sherlock?”  
“You can have the shower, I had a bath last night.”  
“Yes, okay... Sher...”  
“You'd better hurry, John. You might need a few extra minutes to deal with... that...” Sherlock gestured vaguely with one hand, his back still to John.   
“Right.” John could feel his face blushing hard and was actually glad that Sherlock was facing away from him right now. He threw the covers back and locked himself into the bathroom as quickly as he could manage. 

While he was under the spray John thought about the last couple of weeks, how their dynamic had changed. He thought about the last twelve hours. Sherlock ruefully demanding two hotel rooms when they had shared a room numerous times. Sherlock's heated gaze in the bathroom last night. Him sounding disappointed in bed before they fell asleep and now this... He was talking about doing this again and John had laughed it off.   
John hit his head against the shower wall.   
He really was an idiot.   
Sherlock hadn't meant sharing body heat to warm him up after nearly freezing to death, had he?   
Had he meant sharing a bed, sleeping together, waking up cuddled together? Maybe.  
John smiled. Maybe he would get his chance after all?

John made quick work in the shower, brushed his teeth with one of the two toothbrushes the hotel had provided and left the bathroom. Sherlock was already fully dressed, if a bit rumpled, typing away on his mobile. He locked himself up in the bathroom immediately without so much as a glance in John's direction.   
When he came back into the room a few minutes later he was his usual nonchalant self. His shirt and trousers were still a bit rumpled and his hair was a bit of a mess, but with his coat and scarf on and the winter breeze outside, no one but John would recognize the difference.   
Sherlock walked over to the door, pulling on his coat on the way, that still looked quite damp, when John stepped right in front of him.   
“Sherlock?”  
Sherlock looked taken aback, brows furrowed.   
“John?”  
“Listen.” John cleared his throat. “About before...”  
“Before?”  
“Before, as in, in bed before.”  
Sherlock's eyebrows made a complicated move and John smiled and stepped closer.   
“I think I misunderstood, you know.”  
“There was nothing to misunderstand, John.” Sherlock's face was a mask of indifference, but his voice betrayed him.   
“I think there was.” John said quietly and took another half step forward until their fronts were almost touching.   
Sherlock's eyes went wide and his mask slipped for a split second and suddenly John saw raw feelings in his eyes. It was there, written all over his features, plain as day, before Sherlock pulled himself together.   
How had John never seen it before? How had they lived under the same roof for so long without one of them ever making a move?   
“John?” Sherlock's voice was barely a whisper, brows drawn together in a silent question.   
John slipped one hand around Sherlock's upper arm and leaned in so very slowly, giving Sherlock enough time to draw back if he wanted to.   
He didn't.   
Sherlock swallowed hard and John saw his pupils dilating, lips parting just very slightly. John smiled before he closed his eyes and leaned in. 

There were three loud knocks at the door and John and Sherlock jumped apart. They stared into each other's eyes, John's heart racing in his chest. There was another knock and they jumped again before John cleared his throat and walked the three steps to open the door.   
DI Foster was standing outside with a big grin on his face, holding up three paper cups and a paper bag. “Coffee and scones,” he said by way of greeting.   
“Good morning and thank you,” John tried to smile in return. He took two paper cups and turned back to Sherlock, who was still staring at him with an odd expression, completely unmoving.   
“Sherlock?” John said quietly and Sherlock startled out of his reverie.   
“Ah, yes. Good morning.” He turned to the DI with a forced smile.   
DI Foster looked from one to the other, glanced to the bed and to the desk beside the door where their two room keys were lying side by side.   
“Did I interrupt something?” He asked and the corners of his mouth twitched.   
More observant than Sherlock gave him credit, John thought and cleared his throat to answer but Sherlock beat him to it.   
“No. Can we go? Come on, John.” Sherlock clapped both hands together and was already out of the door, coat whirling behind him. 

The rest of the day was complete torture. Sherlock ignored John most of the time. Well Sherlock tried to ignore him, but he glanced over more often than usually with an odd expression and floundered every time he glanced at him. John could see the tips of Sherlock's ears turning red every single time and couldn't stop grinning like an idiot each time.   
Other than that, Sherlock didn't say a single word to him and seemed to be on edge all day.   
John thought he was adorable, even more so than usual. 

Interviewing the suspect and solving the case took Sherlock almost all day and they finally took the evening train back to London. They sat opposite each other in the small compartment and Sherlock kept ignoring him. He stared out of the window for most of the ride but John caught Sherlock staring at him in the reflection of the window several times and couldn't help but smile all through the ride.   
The cab ride from the station to Baker Street was pretty much the same with Sherlock jumping out of the cab as soon as the driver slowed down in front of the house, leaving John behind to pay.   
Sherlock was up the two stairs to their flat in record time and had already disappeared into his room when John reached the landing. He shook his head and smiled, before he went up to his own room to change into something comfortable. 

John came back downstairs a few minutes later and heard the shower running, so he ordered some Chinese from the place around the corner and made tea. He switched on the fairy lights above the mantle they had installed the previous week after Mrs Hudson's repeated begging for Christmas spirit and built a fire.   
John settled down in his chair with a steaming mug of tea, content with the cozy atmosphere in the room and thought about this morning, about their almost kiss, about Sherlock so very close. He thought about Sherlock, nervous and on edge all day long and wished that he could have saved him the trouble by just grabbing him by the lapels and snogging him senseless but he didn't get a chance during the day since they were surrounded by cops almost all the time.   
John got up and walked to the bathroom door three times during the next half hour but he couldn't bring himself to knock or just storm into the bloody room and drag Sherlock out. He would make his move as soon as Sherlock would come out of the bloody bathroom and settled back in his armchair with a heavy sigh. 

Sherlock finally came out another half an hour later in a fresh suit and black shirt, hair perfectly styled. His face was a mask of indifference but he wasn't meeting John's eyes.   
John frowned. Sherlock never changed into a fresh suit when they came home after a long day, it was always pyjama trousers, an old t-shirt and one of his dressing gowns. He's wearing his armour, John thought with an amused grin when the doorbell rang.   
“You should get that,” Sherlock said and walked past John to pick up his violin.   
“Right.” 

John came back upstairs with two bags of takeaway in hand, finding Sherlock by the window with his back to John, playing his violin.   
“Dinner is here, come on.” John walked into the kitchen.   
“Not hungry,” Sherlock answered without stopping to play.   
Nervous, John thought and smiled. He had dinner alone at the kitchen table while Sherlock kept playing without a single pause.   
John grabbed their best bottle of scotch and two glasses afterwards. He could use a bit of liquid help just now.   
He poured them each a glass, standing beside his armchair with his own glass in hand, while Sherlock kept playing, still ignoring John.   
“Are you planning on playing all night?”  
Sherlock didn't answer so John took a sip of whisky.   
“You're going to bruise yourself,” John grinned and took another sip. Still no reaction.   
“Could you stop for a minute and come over here?”  
Sherlock didn't stop playing but at least he finally answered.   
“What for?”  
John grinned. Now or never, he thought and took a deep breath.   
“I want to kiss you.”  
Sherlock's last tone turned into a terrible screeching sound and he stopped playing immediately, standing completely still.   
“I'm sorry, what?” Sherlock's voice was barely audible.   
“You heard me.” John could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, left fist clenching nervously and put his glass down onto the side table.   
Sherlock stood there for a long moment, violin and bow completely still before he put them down into the case on the desk. He stood there, eyes on his violin, breathing deeply, fingers stroking the edge of the violin case. John watched him intently and saw long fingers trembling. Then suddenly Sherlock straightened up, held his chin a few inches higher and turned to John. 

His eyes were narrowed, just a bit, brows furrowed. A mask.   
He studied John's face for a long time with eyes as intense as John had ever seen and John shuddered a bit. Sherlock had stared at him so many times over the years, but never, ever like this. Sherlock was searching his face and John hoped that he would find what he was looking for and waited patiently.   
After a little eternity the mask on Sherlock's face slipped away, his eyes going incredibly soft. He looked frightened and hopeful and so, so vulnerable. John could see the emotions written all over his face. Sherlock had stopped hiding and John thought that he was allowed to really see him for the first time in his life.   
“John?” It sounded like a plea.   
“Come here,” John whispered and he did.   
Sherlock walked over slowly, hesitantly, eyes still so soft, but stopped two steps away from him. John smiled softly and closed the last gap between them.   
“Can I kiss you?” John's heart was racing even faster now. Sherlock stared at him for a long moment and then he nodded.  
“Good.”  
John leaned up, Sherlock meeting him halfway and then there was a little sigh when he brushed his lips against Sherlock's for the first time, just very slightly.   
John stepped a little closer, so that their fronts were touching and pressed his lips a bit more firmly against Sherlock's and he felt warm, soft lips pressing back hesitantly. Sherlock was kissing him back, slowly, tenderly but definitely. John couldn't help but smile into the kiss and he felt Sherlock smiling too.   
There was a hesitant tip of a tongue against his lips and John opened his mouth to let him in. And suddenly there were fingers in his hair and an arm around his shoulders and Sherlock pulled him close. John slipped his own arms around Sherlock's waist and up his back. When their tongues touched for the first time John moaned and Sherlock gasped and pulled him even closer.   
Suddenly Sherlock stopped kissing him. He pulled back to hide his face in the crook of John's neck instead and stood completely still. Sherlock held him tight and was breathing hard against John's skin.   
“Hey, you alright?”  
Sherlock nodded but didn't loose the grip around his shoulders so John held him just as tight. They stood there for a long minute, just breathing together.   
“I wanted to do this for so long,” Sherlock finally murmured against John's neck.   
John drew back a little to look him in the eyes.   
“You did?”  
Sherlock met his gaze and John saw a bit of wetness in those pale blue eyes. John's chest went wide. He had never loved Sherlock as much as in this moment.   
“Me too.” He cupped Sherlock's cheek with one hand, tracing a cheekbone with his thumb before he pressed a soft kiss onto Sherlock's cheek.   
“Me too,” John whispered against the shell of Sherlock's ear and placed another soft kiss on the spot right below his earlobe.   
“Me too.”  
John pressed his face against Sherlock's shoulder and breathed him in for a long moment before he drew back to meet Sherlock's gaze again.   
Sherlock's eyes lit up with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen and then Sherlock was kissing him again. And this time his lips were firm on John's, all hesitation gone. His tongue found John's once more and he started exploring John's mouth slowly. John pressed his body against Sherlock's and gave just as much as he got.   
He slipped one hand into Sherlock's curls, caressing his scalp with short nails and Sherlock whimpered in his arms. He held him just a bit tighter and kept on caressing Sherlock's head, which earned him a soft moan this time.   
“Sherlock,” John whispered against soft lips and he felt Sherlock's hand moving down his back. The hand stopped at the small of his back and John's arousal started to make itself known in his pants.  
He slipped his own hand down Sherlock's back until he could feel a lush arse and was rewarded with another moan. Sherlock moved his own hand down to grab John's arse hesitantly and pushed their pelvises together and Oh, there was Sherlock's erection pressing against his own and they both groaned.   
“God, Sherlock.”  
“John.”  
Their kissing grew more heated by the minute, hands roaming over each other's bodies, cocks pressing against one another until John drew back just wide enough to look into Sherlock's eyes.   
“Sofa?” John asked and Sherlock's pupils dilated further until they were nothing more than black pools.   
“Bedroom?” Sherlock whispered and sounded so very unsure. John cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss onto swollen lips before he pulled back again to look him in the eyes. He traced a sharp cheekbone with his thumb and smiled.   
“Come on, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was absolutely overwhelmed by all the lovely responses to this fic, best Christmas present I ever got! Thank you to everyone who commented and/or left kudos, you all brightened the last couple of days!   
> And since you all asked so nicely, here's the smutty second chapter. It's not beta'd or anything and I used every free second over the holidays to write this.   
> Hope it was worth the wait!

John took Sherlock's hand and led him slowly down the corridor to his bedroom. Sherlock went in first to switch on the bedside lamp, John right behind him, closing the door with a soft click. He turned around to find Sherlock standing in front of the bed with shoulders hunched, arms hanging by his sides, eyes cast down to the floor, fixed somewhere in front of his feet.   
Sherlock had been insecure in the living room but now he looked downright afraid and John's chest clenched. This was just wrong, he needed to make it right. John stepped carefully closer, taking Sherlock's slightly trembling hand in his own.   
“Hey, you alright?” he asked quietly.   
Sherlock's head snapped up immediately.   
“Of course I'm...“ he snapped, but his voice got softer as soon as he looked into John's eyes, ”...alright.”  
John smiled at him but Sherlock wasn't able to hold his gaze so John stepped even closer, slipping his free hand around the side of Sherlock's neck. John's own heart was beating fast in his chest and he took a deep breath to calm himself down a little.   
“Sherlock?”  
Sherlock didn't look up but John saw that he was listening so he continued carefully.   
”Have you done this before?”  
“Of course I've done this before, John. I'm almost forty.” Sherlock snapped again but then he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, letting his breath out in a little sigh.   
“It's just...”  
“What is it?” John caressed the side of Sherlock's neck with his thumb.   
“It's... been a while... I just... I don't know...” Sherlock huffed in frustration.   
“Hey, it's fine,” John told him and leaned up to press a soft kiss onto tense lips.   
“It's just the two of us, Sherlock.”  
Sherlock finally looked up into John's eyes and relaxed a little. He nodded once, biting his lower lip.   
“I know, but...”  
“But what?”  
“I don't want to... I...”  
John tightened the grip around Sherlock's hand. Sherlock closed his eyes and inhaled.   
“I want to get this right,” he whispered and glanced carefully into John's eyes. John smiled and pulled him closer.   
“There's no right or wrong here, Sherlock. There's just us, as we always have been.”  
“Well, not exactly as we always have been.”  
“No,” John chuckled, “not exactly. Better in fact.”  
“Yes,” Sherlock whispered, “much better.”

John leaned up again and found Sherlock's lips much softer now. He let his hand drift from Sherlock's neck into the soft curls at the nape of his neck and felt him relax into the touch. Sherlock started kissing back hesitantly, slipping his free arm around John's shoulder. John carefully traced full, warm lips with the tip of his tongue until Sherlock sighed and opened them and John took his chance and licked tenderly into his mouth until he could feel Sherlock's tongue pressing against his own and they both moaned.   
Sherlock's hand wandered up and down John's spine slowly while John's hand caressed the back of Sherlock's head and he loved the feeling of silky curls slipping through his fingers. And then there were fingertips under the hem of John's striped jumper, caressing the skin at the small of his back and he sighed. John smiled and untangled his other hand that had still been holding Sherlock's. He tugged at Sherlock's lapel.   
“Do you mind if I take this off?”   
The corners of Sherlock's lips turned upwards and he shook his head slowly so John slipped a hand between them to open the button and pull the jacket off Sherlock's shoulders. He tossed it in the general direction of the chair in the corner behind him and looked back up into Sherlock's eyes and his chest went wide. Sherlock's eyes were soft and there was so much love in them that John couldn't help but smile. Sherlock caressed the small of John's back with one hand and let it slip further up along his spine while his eyes searched John's face.   
“What is it?” John asked with a soft smile.   
Sherlock cupped John's face with his free hand and leaned in to kiss his temple.   
“I thought this would never happen,” he whispered against John's skin and John pulled him just a bit closer.   
“I didn't dare to hope we would ever get there.” John told him and kissed the spot below Sherlock's ear before pulling back to look into pale blue eyes again. Sherlock pulled him into a passionate kiss, his hand roaming all over John's back under his jumper until John drew back a little.   
“What about this?” John tugged at the open collar of Sherlock's black shirt. Sherlock's pupils dilated until there was hardly any blue left around dark pools and he nodded, breath getting slightly faster. Both of Sherlock's hands held on to John's hips in a light grip when John started opening his shirt.   
John took his time. He pressed a soft kiss to the skin that had been exposed where he had just opened the button and did the same after he opened the second and third button before he looked up again to find Sherlock's eyes closed, lips slightly parted, breath slightly trembling. John smiled and opened the fourth and fifth button. He had to pull the shirt out of Sherlock's trousers to open the last one and did it very, very slowly, giving Sherlock enough time to object if he wanted to.   
He didn't though, just kept his eyes closed, breathing deeply and gripped John's hips a bit tighter, so John finally opened the last button and pushed black fabric off pale white skin. Sherlock let his hands fall away from John's body to let him pull the shirt all the way down. John couldn't help himself, he just stood there and stared for a moment.   
“God, look at you.”  
Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and his brows furrowed immediately when their eyes locked. John smiled up at him.   
“You're goddamn beautiful, you know that right?” John whispered but Sherlock's brows furrowed even deeper so John slipped both hands up Sherlock's chest and further up along his neck and into silky curls, earning a little gasp. He pulled Sherlock down to kiss him softly and Sherlock melted against him, arms slipping back around John's waist and up his spine shoving his jumper up a bit and John wasn't able to stop the little moan that escaped him.   
Sherlock shoved the jumper upwards and John held his arms up so that he could pull it over his head and off.   
Now it was Sherlock's turn to stare. John saw his eyes roaming all over his bare skin until they came to a rest on the scar on his shoulder for long seconds. Sherlock's eyes were full of wonder when he glanced into John's eyes.   
“Can I touch it?”  
“Yeah, 'course you can.”  
Sherlock reached up until his fingertips found John's skin and he traced the outline of the scar very, very carefully. John watched Sherlock catalogue every little inch of it with his fingers before he leaned down to press a soft kiss right on top of the scar. John slipped one hand into Sherlock's curls while he was tracing John's skin with the tip of his tongue and John couldn't help the shiver that went down his spine.   
“Sherlock,” he whispered and tightened the grip in his curls a little, his other arm slipping around Sherlock's waist to pull him closer. Sherlock slowly kissed along the top of John's shoulder to his neck and further up along his jaw until he reached his mouth. John slipped a hand down to Sherlock's arse and pulled him closer until he could feel Sherlock's arousal pressing against his own and they both moaned.   
“Lay down for me?” John asked and Sherlock nodded. He lay back on the bed, John following him suit, hovering above Sherlock on hands and knees. John leaned down to kiss the side of his neck and felt both of Sherlock's hands stroking through his hair.   
“Closer,” Sherlock breathed and John more than happily complied. He lay down on top of Sherlock, burying his nose in the crook of Sherlock's neck to breathe him in. Their bodies were pressed together from head to toe and they both moaned quietly when their erections brushed against one another.   
John drew back to look into Sherlock's eyes with a little smile and saw Sherlock's face lighting up with the most beautiful smile. He leaned down to brush his lips against that beautiful cupid's bow and Sherlock deepened the kiss immediately, both of his large hands cradling John's head as if it were the most precious thing in the world.   
They lay there kissing for long minutes, Sherlock's hands wandering from John's hair down his spine and up along his sides. Hips moving together in slow circles until Sherlock's hands moved down along John's back to grab his jeans clad arse with both hands and pulled him as close as possible, Sherlock's own hips pushing up against John's. They were both breathing hard by now.   
“More John, please,” Sherlock whispered against the shell of John's ear.   
“God yes.”   
John started kissing a trail down Sherlock's neck, along his collar bone and further down his chest. He traced his tongue around a tiny nipple and pressed his lips against it to suck gently. Sherlock's hands flew back to John's head and he gasped. John grinned and kissed over to the other side to do the same to Sherlock's other nipple until he heard another gasp and Sherlock's hands tightened in his hair.   
“Hmm, you like that,” he grinned and continued kissing downwards to Sherlock's belly button and traced the faint trail of dark hair with his tongue until it disappeared inside black trousers. John looked up and saw Sherlock's eyes piercing into his own. He placed both hands at Sherlock's trouser button and waited until he saw a tiny nod. John opened the button and then the zip very slowly, eyes never leaving Sherlock's.   
Sherlock held very still and just watched, hands falling to his sides on the bed. John grabbed the hem of the trousers and pulled them down slowly, to reveal silky black pants, more pale skin and nicely defined thighs. He sat back on the bed and pulled Sherlock's trousers all the way off, getting rid of his socks on the way, before he kneeled back down between Sherlock's legs. He traced both hands up and down Sherlock's thighs, enjoying the beautiful view in front of him.   
“Jesus, you're gorgeous.”  
Sherlock started trembling slightly, with the sheer effort of keeping still on the bed, so John took pity on him. He pulled one of Sherlock's legs up at the knee and leaned down to kiss the inside of his knee and slowly along his inner thigh until he came to the spot where Sherlock's leg met his groin.  
John pressed his nose against silky black pants and breathed him in. Sherlock smelled like everything John was ever looking for. He smelled like his expensive sandalwood soap and musk and something uniquely Sherlock and John smiled. He rubbed his face along Sherlock's hard cock and down over his balls, with only a thin layer of silky fabric between their skin and Sherlock trembled even harder, trying and failing to suppress a whimper.   
“Let me hear you,” John whispered against him and Sherlock moaned softly. John pressed a kiss to the tip of Sherlock's cock, where his pants were already damp and hummed. Sherlock whimpered again and John searched his hand on the bed to intertwine their fingers. John mouthed up and down Sherlock's cock, the moans from above becoming louder until he felt Sherlock's other hand in his hair, tugging gently. John looked up and found him panting hard.   
“Can you come up here, John? Please?”  
John complied immediately, sliding up along Sherlock's body until they were face to face.   
“What is it?”  
Sherlock stroked John's cheek with the back of his fingers.   
“You were too far away,” he whispered and an incredible warmth spread through John's chest. John felt tears prickling behind his eyes and leaned down to kiss Sherlock's cheek softly.   
“I better stay up here then,” John murmured, voice hoarse.   
“Please.”  
Sherlock found John's mouth again and kissed him softly, his large hand cupping John's face. Their kissing grew passionate again and John eventually felt Sherlock's free hand fumbling with the buckle of his belt. John leaned up a bit, to give him better access and Sherlock opened his belt and the button of his jeans with one hand. When Sherlock pulled the zip down slowly he brushed along John's straining cock and John groaned and pressed his mouth against Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock pushed John's jeans as far down as he could reach and John sat back to pull the annoying garment off his legs, together with his socks. John threw all of it on the floor beside the bed and slipped back on top of Sherlock and this time when their cocks brushed they both moaned loudly. Almost perfect, John thought and kissed along Sherlock's neck and jawline. 

Suddenly Sherlock rolled them over until they were lying side by side. He hooked his right leg over John's and grabbed his arse to press their hips together and Oh, that was some nice friction. Sherlock pushed his hand under the hem of John's pants, stroking John's bum and pressed his hips harder against John's.   
“God yes, Sherlock, just like that,” John panted against Sherlock's lips and kissed him sloppily.   
“John, please.”  
John slipped his left hand between their bodies to rub over Sherlock's cock and Sherlock moaned loudly, pushing his cock firmly against John's hand. John shoved his hand into Sherlock's pants and closed his hand around hard flesh and Sherlock rolled his eyes back at the contact, groaning wantonly.   
“Oh God, Johnnn.”  
John stroked him slowly inside his pants, Sherlock meeting his strokes with shallow thrusts until the garment got too annoying and John pulled it down over Sherlock's arse to finally free his cock. John gave Sherlock's cock one long lascivious stroke from root to tip and back to the root before he pulled Sherlock's pants all the way off and threw them on the floor. Sherlock followed suit, pulling John's pants off him as quickly as he could manage.   
John closed his hand around Sherlock's cock again and stroked his thumb over the tip to collect the precome there and smeared it all around his glans and the frenulum and Sherlock panted harder beside him. And then Sherlock closed his hand around John's cock for the first time and John's eyes rolled back on their own volition. Sherlock stroked him in long swift moves with just the right amount of pressure and John groaned loudly.   
“Yes, Sher, just like that.”  
Sherlock pressed a sloppy kiss onto John's lips and they stroked each other simultaneously, increasing the speed.   
“John, that's...”  
“Yes.”  
They both tightened the grip around each other's cocks and thrusted into the other's hand, both of them panting hard.   
“John, I...”  
“God, yes.”  
“I'm...”  
“It's fine, love.”  
Sherlock's whole body suddenly tensed and he got very still for a second, eyes pressed shut tightly, mouth slightly open and then he was coming hard into John's hand. Sherlock's hand clenched around John's cock and he made the most arousing sounds John had ever heard and that was enough to push John over the edge too. John pushed hard into Sherlock's still clenched hand once, twice and then he groaned, spilling all over Sherlock's hand and their bellies.   
They stroked each other through it until they both got too sensitive. John let go of Sherlock's cock, slipping his hand around Sherlock's waist instead and pulled him close, pressing soft little kisses to Sherlock's neck and cheek and on top of closed eyelids and he felt Sherlock's arm slipping around his waist, holding him tight.   
They lay there for a long time, just breathing together, hands caressing each other's backs before John pulled back a little.   
“I'll go get a flannel to clean us up a bit.”  
Sherlock, eyes still closed, made an objecting sound so John kissed him on the temple before he got up.   
“Back in a tick.”

John cleaned himself up in the bathroom quickly and came back with a wet flannel, sitting down on the bed beside Sherlock, one knee bent on top of the bed, the other leg dangling over the edge. Sherlock had rolled onto his back in the meantime, one arm on his chest, the other on the bed beside John's knee, watching him intently. John cleaned Sherlock's cock and balls and then his belly with gentle strokes while Sherlock caressed John's knee with his fingertips. John could feel Sherlock's eyes boring into him but he didn't meet his gaze before he had finished cleaning him up. He threw the flannel in the general direction of the bathroom and looked up into pale blue eyes. There was a slight crinkle between Sherlock's brows, eyes staring into John's.  
“Out with it.” John told him.   
Sherlock's brows furrowed further.   
“I can practically hear you thinking. What is it?”  
John grabbed Sherlock's hand on his chest, intertwining their fingers and stroked little circles into the palm of his hand.   
“Before... in bed... you...” Sherlock swallowed and dropped his gaze “...you called me something.”  
John smiled, he knew exactly what Sherlock meant.   
“Did I?”  
“Yes.”  
“And what was that?”  
Sherlock's eyes were fixed on his own fingers, that were still stroking little patterns onto John's knee.   
“You...“ he swallowed again ”...you called me 'love'.”  
“Mmm, I did.”  
Sherlock's eyes flicked up to John's and John smiled at him.   
“You better get used to it, won't be the last time.”  
Sherlock's brows furrowed once more and John couldn't hold back any longer. He climbed back on top of Sherlock, bracing his forearms beside Sherlock's head and locked eyes with him.   
“I thought you would have deduced it by now.”  
“Deduced?”  
“Hmm, yes.”  
Sherlock looked completely baffled so John smiled.   
“That I'm completely and utterly in love with you. Have been for a long time, to be honest.”  
Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed and he breathed in and out for a full minute. John gave him all the time in the world, watching the tiniest twitches of Sherlock's face, while brushing a stray curl from his forehead with his fingertips.   
When Sherlock opened his eyelids again there were tears in those beautiful pale eyes.   
“You are, aren't you?” He whispered and sounded as if he just couldn't believe it.   
“Yeah, 'course I am.” John kissed his forehead and rolled them over slowly, so that he was below, pulling Sherlock half on top of him. Sherlock tugged his face into the crook of John's neck and breathed him in. John stroked one hand through Sherlock's curls and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.   
“I love you too,” Sherlock whispered against John's neck before they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you liked what I've done with this. There was no full-on sex but I felt that especially Sherlock needed their first time to be gentle. Hope you lovely lot approve.   
> I really start to like this story, and I'm not sure if it should end here... Penny for your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not sure if this should get a smutty chapter two... Tell me what you think.


End file.
